


Steve Rogers

by smudgedsherlock



Series: The Avengers Celebrate Christmas [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Sentient Coffee Machine - Freeform, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Tony Stark Has Terrible Ideas, because why the fuck not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3196901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgedsherlock/pseuds/smudgedsherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony has terrible ideas, and there's a sentient coffee machine. This story is set before CA:TWS, but Coulson has come back. He has been living with the team for just over a year, and he has pretty much been incorporated into the team dynamic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve was really beginning to regret what he said earlier. He stared unflinchingly at the gun pointed between his eyes, with one eyebrow raised. It could never be said that Captain America didn’t go out without a fight, or some sass.

* * *

Twenty-seven hours earlier:

Rubbing his eyes blearily, Steve walked out of the elevator. He was clad only in flannel pajama pants and a SHIELD t-shirt, but he knew no one else would be up. The sun rose steadily as he strode into the kitchen, its orangey rays stretching towards the sky. Suddenly, something metal bumped into his leg, and he started. He looked down, and rolled his eyes with a fond smile. 

Last month, Tony decided it would be a good idea to have a sentient coffee machine. It started out as a joke. Clint was complaining about Tony’s ‘dumb-ass inventions’ including Jarvis. Said AI had called Coulson after Clint refused medical help, even though he had a concussion. At 3 in the morning. Needless to say, Coulson wasn’t pleased, and neither was Clint. While in medical, the archer told Bruce, “What the hell is he going to automate next, the goddamn coffee machine?” And of course, in typical Stark fashion, Tony chose that moment to walk in. And that’s how Xavier came into being, aptly named for his ability to know what you wanted, even before you did.

Steve reached down, and lightly stroked the back of the machine. Xavier chirped happily, and floated over to the counter, steam already coming out. Smiling, he walked past the kitchen, and settled down on the well-worn couch. His sketchbook was set on the coffee table, along with a charcoal pencil. He picked it up, and flipped open to a blank page. His sketchbook was a lot nicer than what he had growing up.

Ever since he was young, Steve had always had a passion for drawing. Bucky had brought him a sketchbook for the first time when he was 9, while he was bedridden with pneumonia.

* * *

“Hey, Stevie! I brought you something” Bucky shook his friend’s shoulder lightly, trying to wake him. Steve let out a high-pitched whine, and turned over, shivering. “I know you’re cold, but this will make you feel better” At this, the scrawny blonde kid finally opened his eyes.

“Buck, just let me sleep” Steve whined. Bucky shook his head.

“No, you’ll want to see this. I st…, I mean, bought it for you” Finally, Steve sat up, and looked at the simple black book on the bedside table. “It’s a sketchbook, you can draw stuff in it” Bucky struck a ridiculous pose. “You can even draw me!” Steve laughed at this, and Bucky smiled in response. 

Steve reached a skinny hand out from under the covers, and stared at the black leather cover in awe. “Buck, you didn’t have to…”

“Of course I did, it’s Christmas! Besides, you mentioned wanting to get in to drawing. Now you can!” The darker haired boy was grinning, happy for Steve’s look of sheer joy. 

* * *

Steve shook himself out of his reverie. It was hard to forget Bucky, and everything was reminding him of his best friend lately. It was nearing Christmas, and he couldn’t help but remember all the Christmas Eve’s they had spent together. Now he was dead, all because Steve couldn’t hold on. He would never forgive himself for that.

He looked down at his paper, and noticed he had drawn something while he was reminiscing. A charcoal drawing of Tony, bent over his workbench. His hair was matted with grease, and his brow furrowed with concentration. It was Tony at his most vulnerable, his most peaceful. Even in sleep, he was plagued with nightmares from Afghanistan, and battles gone wrong. But in his workshop, fixing one of the bots or inventing something completely ridiculous, Tony was happy. 

Suddenly, a chirp came from behind the couch. Steve froze for an instant, before realizing it was only Xavier. “Oh, I see you finally brought my coffee! Took you long enough” He said, teasingly. The AI made a noise that would qualify as ‘indignant’, if he wasn’t, well, a coffee machine. The machine flew off with a huff of smoke, leaving Steve alone on the couch. Without his coffee. “Hey! Come back here!” He jumped up, and sprinted towards the kitchen. 

Xavier floated up towards the ceiling, and Steve jumped up, trying to grab a hold of it. “Get down from there!” The coffee machine refused, floating just out of Steve’s reach. Curse Tony and his vaulted ceilings. “Okay, you’re going to regret this.” Steve walked out of the kitchen, and moved away towards the elevators. 

Then, all of a sudden, he took off at a dead sprint, jumped up onto the breakfast bar, and vaulted himself off. He went flying, his hand stretched out in front of him. Xavier made another noise, that could almost be counted as surprised. Steve grabbed hold of the mug, but realized he hadn’t thought very far in advance. He had forgotten about a little thing called gravity. Instead of landing gracefully, Steve flailed about in midair, spilling his coffee, and landing on the tile floor with a resounding THUD.

Steve then heard the sound of a throat clearing. “I’m going to assume I walked in at the wrong time?” Bruce Banner was standing at the kitchen threshold, with a bemused expression on his face. The great Captain America was lying on the kitchen floor in a tangled pile of limbs, with hot coffee and shattered pieces of mug everywhere.

“Yeah, I think maybe you did” Steve looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” Bruce replied, “I was already coming down here to get some tea. No promises about the others though.”

A British-sounding voice came from overhead. “Captain Rogers, are you quite all right?”

Steve chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I’m fine Jarvis. Thank you. Sorry, I kind of made a mess”

“You didn’t blow anything up, so that’s quite an improvement over Sir” At Jarvis’ words, Steve grinned. The AI definitely had some of Tony’s personality. Shaking his head good-naturedly, he walked over to the closet, and pulled out a mop. 

“You needn’t worry, Captain Rogers. Sir has a cleaning team you can call” Jarvis called again.

“Nah, I’ll do it myself. It’s wrong to have someone else clean up my messes for me. And again, you can call me Steve.” Bruce watched their interaction from behind the breakfast bar, sipping a mug of herbal tea. He closed his eyes, and smiled faintly. Despite being a coffee machine, Xavier made amazing tea. 

Said coffee machine had flown down from the ceiling, and still seemed to hold quite a bit of animosity for Steve. It drifted by the super soldier, then puffed steam at him. Bruce snorted at this. Who knew a coffee machine could be so bratty, and vindictive? Steve soon finished mopping up the spilled coffee and picking up the shattered bits of ceramic. 

“Sure you’re okay? Just because you’re a super soldier doesn’t mean hot coffee doesn’t hurt.” Already, Steve was shaking his head. He stood up, done with his mopping. He emptied the dustpan into the trash, and glared at Xavier, still floating, almost smugly, in the air. Bruce rolled his eyes. "Do you ever wonder where your life went wrong?"

Suddenly, a female voice came from behind them. "Every day." Both men spun around, to find Natasha, one delicate eyebrow raised, and holding a gun loosely at her side. "Either of you want to explain the crash I heard?" Again, the two men looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

Bruce was the first to speak up. "Steve had a short-lived wrestling match with the coffee machine, and lost." Natasha rolled her eyes, and slid her gun back into her thigh holster. She walked into the kitchen, and clicked her tongue. Xavier floated down, and she passed him a cup. He chirped happily, and started brewing her coffee.

While Xavier was brewing, Natasha glanced over at Steve. "How does Captain America manage to lose a fight with a  _coffee machine_?"

Steve shrugged, and said sheepishly, "I think I offended it." The Russian assassin snorted. Then, Xavier chirped again, and floated over to Natasha. She grabbed her coffee mug, and sipped appreciatively. She stroke the brushed steel lightly, then turned back to Steve, with a look of sheer exasperation on her face.

"Without me and Pepper, you super-idiots would crash and burn"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh jeez, this is so late. If anyone is still actually paying attention to this story, thank you!

Steve shrugged, and said sheepishly, "I think I offended it." The Russian assassin snorted. Then, Xavier chirped again, and floated over to Natasha. She grabbed her coffee mug, and sipped appreciatively. 

“Only Stark could make an easily insulted coffee machine” she said, derisively. Steve could detect a hint of fondness though. It was a tone that Peggy had often used.

 

* * *

 

“Captain Rogers, you better not be doing something stupid. Again” Steve called her often during the war, usually just before a mission. He would memorize their conversations, and hold on to her voice when things got rough.

“I’ll try to stay safe Peggy, you know I will.” Sometimes, all their conversations felt like goodbye. 

“Earth to Steve?” Steve’s brow furrowed. Peggy never said that.

 

* * *

 

“Steve?” Natasha’s voice jolted him out of his memories. 

“What?” He looked around the room, then refocused his gaze back on her. “Sorry, I guess I just…”

“Got lost? It happens” The two stood for a moment, before Natasha walked over to the pantry, and pulled out a sack “Think fast”

Steve started, and looked in her direction, and at the bag of flour hurtling towards his face. Instinctively, he put his hands up by his face, and caught it. “What was that for?” he asked, as Natasha kept taking things out of the cabinets. 

“It’s Wednesday, and that means…”

She was cut off as Thor strode into the room. In a booming voice, he stated, “Tis the day of the great pancake feast!”

Steve looked as the demigod walked in, then turned away, cringing. “Oh God”, he muttered. Quickly, he busied himself with adding ingredients into a large mixing bowl. 

Natasha heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Thor. We’ve talked about this.” She pointed in the direction of the stairs. “Pants”

Thor looked down, and noticed what was obvious to everyone else. “My apologies, lady Natasha” He lumbered back upstairs, arms swinging by his distinctly naked sides. As he walked away, the assassin slid in beside Steve, and began helping him with the pancakes.

Almost as soon as Thor left, the ceiling vent sprung open, and Clint dropped down. “I don’t even think I need coffee, because a naked Thor is one hell of a way to wake up” He closed the vent again, then walked over to the batter that Natasha was mixing. Clint reached into the bowl, trying to get a taste. She quickly swatted his hand away, and he feigned a hurt expression.

“Don’t kid yourself, Clint. You always want coffee” Xavier floated over to Clint, and nudged his shoulder gently.

“You know me too well, Nat”. Clint reached around behind him, grabbing the steaming mug of coffee from Xavier. He sipped it appreciatively, and raised in slightly in thanks. Xavier chirped, then floated away to sit back on the counter.

Steve may have been the team leader, but when it came to making food, Natasha and Bruce took control. The pancake batter was mixed, and Natasha was flipping them on the griddle. Meanwhile, Bruce was madly slicing up fruit, and delegating various Avengers to other parts of the meal. 

Thor’s footsteps sounded on the stairs once more, and Bruce called out to him, “Thor, you’re on bacon duty!”

“Aye!” He replied heartily, and pulled an obscene amount of bacon out of the fridge.

“Steve, set the table! Clint, get your hands away from those pancakes or so help me God. Tony, start making…Wait, where is Tony?” The rest of the Avengers stopped, noticing what Natasha had.

“Probably passed out in some stripper bar” Clint muttered. Natasha threw a look in his direction, speaking volumes in a language only the two of them understood. He threw up his hands in mock exasperation. “Fine, I’ll look!” 

 

* * *

 

Clint walked down the stairs to the workshop. Tony seemed to spend a majority of his time down there, upgrading his latest Iron Man suit, or building some useless invention. He peered through the enormous glass windows, and saw Tony slumped over his workbench, hair sticking up at all angles, and likely coated in oil. The archer rolled his eyes, and input his code for the workshop. Tony had given all the Avengers their own access code so he, as he put it, “could see who fucked up his shop if it got messed with”.

As Clint pushed the door open, he heard the loud roar of the death metal music that Tony favored. “How does he sleep with this on?” He said to himself. “Jarvis, turn the music down please. Actually, just turn it off.”

Almost immediately, the music silenced. Clint walked over the workbench Tony was sleeping on. “Wake up. You’re supposed to be helping make breakfast.” Unsurprisingly, there was no movement. The dark-haired Avenger slept like the dead. “Hey, dumbass. Wake up.” This time, Clint nudged Tony with probably more force than needed. Still, nothing.

The archer rolled his eyes, and spoke to the air (or Jarvis), “Let it be known that I had no choice”. He strode over to one of the other workbenches, and picked up the shock pen. Tony had the tendency to start epic prank wars, and the shock pen was his favorite weapon. Clint had been on the receiving end of it far too often. He held the shock pen in his hand and jammed it into Tony’s side.

“OW! What the fuck?!?” Tony jolted upright, tipping his chair over in his haste, then proceeding to trip over it as he lunged to punch his attacker. His anger was heightened when he heard Clint cackling hysterically, doubled over and clutching his sides.

“Oh Jesus….you should’ve seen…your reaction…..oh sweet lord” the archer’s words were punctuated by fits of laughter. Composing himself, stifling a few giggles, he extended his hand to Tony, who begrudgingly took it. 

“Really? Was that really necessary?”

Clint released a bark of laughter, before replying, “Yes, it really was”. Tony rolled his eyes in response.

“Why did you wake me? Do we finally have a mission?” It had been a while since the Avengers had been called out, the world had been surprisingly peaceful.

“It’s Wednesday, you’re skipping out on your egg-making duties” Clint replied. He started out of the shop, and motioned to Tony to follow.

“Already?” Tony said as they walked up the stairs. “I guess I fell asleep pretty late. Or early”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short one, but I threw some Clintasha in there to make up for it! I'll be working on this more, seeing as it's summer now and I actually have time to write. Enjoy!

Back in the kitchen, the rest of the Avengers bustled around the kitchen and dining room. A huge stack of fluffy pancakes sat on the dark wood table, along with a plate stacked high with crispy bacon and a large bowl of fruit. Steve was pouring orange juice, while Bruce followed Xavier around, setting steaming mugs of coffee or tea at each place setting.

As Tony and Clint walked in, Natasha turned to the pair. “I already started on the eggs, want to take over” She took a look at his disheveled appearance, then stifled a laugh and turned away. “Actually, you look exhausted. You’re likely to set the kitchen on fire.” Tony shot a thankful look her way.

Sensing his creator was nearby, Xavier abandoned Bruce, and zoomed over to Tony, butting him gently in the back of his head. Tony turned, and his face lit up. “Hey, you little rascal. Do you have coffee for me?” He grabbed the mug sitting in the machine, and sniffed it.

“Ah, coffee as black as my soul. You know what I like,” he told the machine with a wink. Tony sat down at the table, just as the others settled in. Natasha walked over with a heaping plate of eggs, and set it down gently before taking her seat.

Breakfast was always an eventful time. Well, mealtimes in general were. With Thor and Steve each eating enough to feed a normal family of six, and epic food fights breaking out at least once a week, started either by Clint or Tony.  

“Why haven’t we decorated for Christmas yet? I’m already halfway through my advent calendar” Clint said petulantly as he shoveled pancakes into his mouth. “It’s not like putting up some tinsel is that hard”

“Yes! We must celebrate the Great Holiday of Gift-Giving!” Thor replied boisterously, his mouth full of food, chewing loudly. Natasha, who was seated next to him, subtly jammed her fork into his leg, and the Norse closed his mouth dutifully. Bruce smiled faintly. Everyone still maintained a healthy fear of Natasha, which was probably for the best.

“Uhhh….” Tony stared blankly at the Avengers as slowly directed their attention to him. Then, as if struck by lightning, he sat straight up from his slouched position, grabbed a few pancakes, and raced off downstairs, throwing a “gaddagobye” over his shoulder. 

“Tony, wait! Ah jeez, that can’t be good” Steve ran his fingers through his short blond hair in mild exasperation. 

“Should we just let him be?” Natasha asked, halfway through her eggs.

“Yeah, probably for the best…” Steve sank back down into his chair from his half-standing stance. 

* * *

The Avengers resumed breakfast as usual; when Tony was in one of his moods, there wasn’t much that could be done to stop him. And so the morning routine resumed. Steve went off to the basement to work out, Bruce to his lab, and Thor to god knows where. Presumably catching up on Earth’s culture. This left only Clint and Natasha in the open living room.

Clint lay sprawled on the couch, reading _Lord of the Rings._ Then, Natasha decided he was in her spot, and laid practically on top of him.

“Do you mind?” he asked, but he was secretly pleased. The seemingly cold assassin did have a soft side, even if she didn’t show it.

Natasha sleepily uttered “No” as she dug her face into Clint’s warm neck. 

So this is my life now, Clint thought to himself. He gently placed his book on the floor, and relaxed into her hold. They rarely got time alone anymore. Tilting his head slightly forward, he lightly kissed her fiery hair, and Natasha gave off a little sigh of pleasure. 

They lay like that for a while, the yin to each others yang. Each knew the other so well, and could coexist in almost any situation. But when they fought, they fought dirty; dredging up past mistakes with a scorched earth policy, until it turned physical. So they sparred until the punches grew weaker, and they both lay on the mat, laughter and forgiveness in their eyes, not needing to say a word. 

“Have either of you seen Tony?” Steve strode into the living room, shirtless and glistening with sweat. The couple shook their heads. “Well, that’s not good.”

“Don’t pay too much attention Cap, he does this all the time” Natasha said, trying to appease him. Already though, Steve was shaking his head.

“I’m going down to check on him, I’ll feel better” Steve said, walking away from the couple, and down to Tony’s shop. His callused hand brushed the smooth steel of the railing as he descended the staircase into the shop.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try to do one of these stories for each of the Avengers, and maybe Coulson. Warning, I write really slow, but I won't give up on this story. Please leave comments, they make my day!


End file.
